


Gaiden: Other Tokusatsu

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Series: Gaiden: Tokusatsu Prompt Fics [7]
Category: GARO (TV), GARO: Makai Senki, ウルトラマンオーブ | Ultraman Orb
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: A collection of short tokusatsu prompt fiction for miscellaneous non-Toei shows (Ultra Series, Garo, etc.)Individual chapters are marked for their show. Collection as a whole is unrated; anything NSFW or otherwise potentially mature will be marked with an (M).
Relationships: Fudou Leo/Mitsuki Kaoru, Jugglus Juggler/Kurenai Gai, Jugglus Juggler/Kurenai Gai/Yumeno Naomi, Kurenai Gai/Yumeno Naomi, Mitsuki Kaoru/Saejima Kouga, Mitsuki Kaoru/Suzumura Rei
Series: Gaiden: Tokusatsu Prompt Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145267
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. The Go-Between (Orb)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi's really enjoying getting kissed so much, but she'd love it if Gai and Juggler could get around to kissing each other too instead of making her do it for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from askrikkaiandhyotei: B, for basorexia, with Gai, Juggler, and Naomi
> 
> Contains: coffee with Juggler, dinner with Gai, an obnoxious habit that both of them have picked up, Naomi losing her temper

The thing that actually _surprises_ Naomi, when Juggler shows up at the SSP offices several weeks after the defeat of Magata no Orochi, is not that he’s alive at all but that he’s wearing a different suit. “Gray looks good on you,” she says, cutting him off before he can offer some quip about being hard to kill. “I mean, I know it’s not as dramatic as the black, but gray and red is a good combination.”

Apparently thrown for a loop by this calm non-greeting, he stares at her for a moment before saying, “I was hoping we might have coffee.”

“At dawn?”

“I have reason to believe that the sunrise tomorrow might be well worth seeing, and while my preferred coffee spot _has_ closed, I’ve found another one that’s very nice.”

She nods, says, “That sounds lovely, I’d like that,” and then bursts into tears and has to push her chair back to keep from crying into her keyboard.

Juggler freezes like a rabbit staring down an oncoming car and then comes around her desk and rests an awkward hand on her shoulder. “I don’t, ah. I’m not sure what to do in this situation.”

Naomi sniffles. “You should hug me now, weirdo.”

He’s an awkward hugger. It’s cute. She cries on his silk waistcoat anyway and lets him pat her nervously on the back, because maybe he deserves to be a little uncomfortable.

Once she’s done, though, she says, “Do you have anywhere to stay around here? If we’re having coffee at dawn then we’ll need to be able to find each other.”

“I don’t sleep,” he says, reflexively, and then, “also, no.”

“You _don’t_ –maybe you’d have spent less time trying to be a bad guy if you _got_ some sleep once in a while. We have a space here, as long as you don’t mind it being where Gai crashed when he was here.”

An odd look crosses Juggler’s face. “No…no, that’s fine, I don’t mind. Thank you.”

* * *

She plans on going to the office and waking him up for coffee, and sets her alarm for it, but then doesn’t have to, because he shows up at her apartment just as she’s stepping out the door to go get him. “Wow, you really _don’t_ sleep.”

He shrugs. “Not much.” Then, with a courtly bow, he offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

The sunrise is beautiful. The coffee, while not as sublime as Black Star’s, is very good. And Juggler’s much better at kissing than he is at hugging, especially when the sky is red and pink and orange and the clouds are thin and lacy and his mouth tastes like _excellent_ coffee. Naomi has to take a moment to catch her breath when he pulls back. “Nobody’s ever kissed me like _that_ before.”

Juggler raises an eyebrow. “Not even Gai?”

“Gai hasn’t kissed me at _all_ yet, the _slacker._ ” She resists the urge to pout, and then the incipient pout turns into a smile as she realizes, “So there you go, you got to be the first one.”

He does, as expected, look tremendously pleased with himself, and then says, “You’ll have to remind him of his duties the next time you see him. And give him this, from me.”

This kiss is very different from the first one, long and lingering and not sweet so much as it is full of intent. She can’t talk at _all_ for a few minutes after, too red-faced and abruptly shy to attempt it. It feels like she’s walked in on something private, never mind that she was invited, offered it directly even.

“You’ll remember, of course?”

She’ll never call Juggler on how uncertain he sounds, but she’ll always remember it. “I promise.”

* * *

Juggler is gone two days later, to…wherever it is that he disappears off to, and it’s back to business as usual. Or rather, business as _much better_ than usual; the SSP website’s really taken off, and she and Shin and Jetta spend a lot of time running around interviewing people and filming strange phenomena and writing articles. They’re making enough money that Naomi’s actually been able to quit a couple of her part-time jobs, which is a relief.

Gai gets back to Japan a couple of weeks after Juggler leaves. He doesn’t announce himself, of course, he’s just at the offices when they get back from a trip to a haunted bathhouse, sitting at Shin’s desk, drinking Ramune. Shin and Jetta fall all over themselves in their excitement to greet him, and then see how Naomi’s looking at him and very quickly find that they have other things to take care of.

“You’re late,” she says, “you missed Juggler by two weeks.”

He actually jumps slightly. “Juggler was here?”

“He was.” She crosses her arms over her chest, enjoying the hunted look on his face. “You’ve got some catching up to do, buddy. Also, he gave me something for you.”

“He…gave _you_ something for _me._ ”

“Yes. I’ll give it to you later. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

 _He_ doesn’t kiss her in a rooftop cafe at sunrise. Not that it isn’t just as romantic sitting on the couch in her tiny apartment, but it’s a very different mood otherwise. He’s hesitant about it, too, not as cool or as obviously prepared as Juggler was, both of them bursting into nervous laughter after a couple of shy first pecks, but then he reaches for her again and it’s _very_ nice.

After about ten minutes of increasingly confident kisses traded back and forth there’s a pause, as both of them clearly try to decide whether this is going to go any further tonight, and Naomi remembers. “Right, yeah, I should give you that thing.”

Gai nods, frowning. “The…the thing Juggler gave you for me?”

“Yes, that one.”

She does her best to kiss him the way that Juggler kissed her, and from the shocked look on his face afterward she’s at least partially successful. “He asked you to give me _that._ ”

“He was very specific about it, yes.” A beat, and then, with more mischief, “He was _very_ pleased to know that he’d gotten to kiss me first.”

Gai rolls his eyes. “Of _course_ he was.”

They don’t go any further that night, and that’s fine, because Naomi finds after only the briefest consideration that she’s _way_ too nervous about the prospect of asking Gai if he wants to stay the night. Eventually he does get up to go–only back to the SSP offices to sleep there, but that’s still going. But at the door he stops and says, “If Juggler doesn’t come around before I have to leave again, please give him this for me?”

Another shocking, private kiss, filled with yearning, dizzying in how _lonely_ it makes Naomi realize Gai‘s been, his hand on the side of her face gentle in a way that’s entirely different from how he’s gentle with her. She nods, dazed. “Sure. I’ll keep it safe for him.”

* * *

Juggler does not, of course, come back for another three weeks, by which point Gai’s long gone. He receives his message from Gai with stunned pleasure, and gives her another one to send back.

He and Gai only miss each other by three days this time, but it’s still what happens. Naomi gives Gai the kiss she’s been saving for him, and he gives her another one for Juggler.

It takes three more repeats of this before she realizes that they’re avoiding each other.

* * *

It’s not like either one of them has a cell phone, is the really frustrating thing.

So she puts a note on the website, which has been doing _very_ well. She knows they both check it, too, and that they’ll both notice the one-line addition to the right side of the main page, under the embedded Twitter feed, that just says, _I miss you. - N._

Two days later, she and Jetta get back from an interview to find Juggler staring at Gai’s open bottle of Ramune like it’s personally attacking him.

Gai, for his part, is squinting at Juggler’s chest. “Did you get a new suit?”

“Oh, good.” Naomi hangs up her jacket. “Shin, when did they both get here?”

Shin is hiding behind his latest invention, which is fair, the atmosphere is pretty tense. “Gai’s been here for exactly two hours and seventeen minutes, Cap. J-juggler just got here ten minutes ago.”

“You _planned_ this,” Juggler says accusingly.

“Obviously I planned it. _You_ fell for it.”

“Can I take that note down now, Cap?” Jetta, bless him, is just acting like it’s a normal day, heading to the computer with camera in hand to move his footage over. Granted, both he _and_ Shin were in on the plan, but he was the one who thought it was funny, so it makes sense that he’d be calm about things.

“Yes, please. I’m going to be out for the rest of the afternoon.”

Shin starts to protest, looks at the frozen expressions on Gai and Juggler’s faces, and shuts up.

* * *

They follow her back to her apartment in a deeply awkward silence, and then proceed to take up more space in her minuscule living room than she would have ever thought possible. She stares at them for several minutes, tapping her foot, and is about to start getting impatient when Gai, _finally,_ says, “Was there. Ah. Something you wanted to talk to us both about?”

 _“Yes,”_ she says, with vehemence. “I am an _independent woman_ and I would like my _own kisses_ , please, if you two want to kiss each other then you ought to stop avoiding each other and do it yourselves instead of making me your go-between.” At Gai’s protesting noise, “Look, I don’t entirely _mind,_ they’re extremely nice kisses! But you’re, what, a few hundred years old?”

Juggler coughs. “Thousand.”

“Ok! You’re a few _thousand_ years old! And I know, I _know_ you’ve spent a bunch of that time _not_ talking about your problems, but I’m fairly sure you can behave like adults! You don’t need a, a kissing proxy!”

Neither one of them answer. Gai scratches the back of his head, and then actually shuffles his feet like a child who’s been scolded. Juggler is staring fixedly at her one little bookcase with its painstakingly curated collection of books about aliens and supernatural phenomena. She’d think he was mad, except that he’s blushing, which is very charming of him.

She gives them a moment to feel awkward in silence and then says, “Look, I’m going to, to go to the bathroom and then when I’m out we’ll order dinner from somewhere and you two have to _talk_ to each other.”

She spends longer in the bathroom than she’d really like, because as she washes her hands she finds that she’s shaking. _Obviously_ this whole thing makes her nervous, obviously it’s all strange and new, obviously her first serious relationship would be with _two thousand-year-old aliens_ , and also she’s planning on finally asking if one or both of them wants to stay the night. It’s a lot! She’s taking a lot of steps, very quickly, and they’re going to get easier if Juggler and Gai will just talk like normal people instead of…thousand-year-old aliens with a longstanding feud. Which is what they actually are. And that’s, you know, _hot,_ but maybe it’s also intimidating right now.

Also she can’t decide what to order for dinner.

Finally she stops staring at herself in the mirror and straining to understand the occasional murmurs she can hear through the door, takes a deep breath, and leaves the bathroom. “So I’m not sure what to get, would you two like–oh.” And then, “Well, _finally._ ”

Because they aren’t answering her, they’re probably not thinking about what to order for dinner right now, Juggler’s got his back to the wall next to the bookcase and his hand in Gai’s hair and there’s a kiss happening that’s _definitely_ a culmination of all these kisses they’ve been sending each other through her, or at the very least a continuation of them. Most people wouldn’t be able to see it, the hundreds of years of pent-up longing and regret and desire, but then most people aren’t _her._ _Most_ people haven’t been couriering it back and forth for months now.

It’s almost heartbreaking to see.

It’s also quite possibly the hottest thing Naomi’s ever seen in her–admittedly, comparatively short–life. She’s not sure she can remember how to breathe.

When she _does_ finally start breathing again, she says, “I think when you’re both done I’ll order us a pizza.”


	2. Just Jealousy (Garo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rei's got a fairly major problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompt: D, for depth or darkness, with Suzumura Rei
> 
> Contains: where Rei can sleep, confusing feelings about two people at once, hopefully cake

Rei can’t sleep in the Suzumura mansion. He hasn’t been able to for years.

“I don’t see why you keep coming back to this hole in the wall,” Silva says irritably as he locks the door of his apartment. “You have a _perfectly_ good house.”

“You _know_ why.”

She makes a disapproving noise, but she doesn’t argue with him.

Coat on a chair, light stays off for the moment, and he’s hungry but not enough to bother with finding something in the fridge yet, so he flings himself backwards onto the couch instead. There’s a crack on the ceiling that he sometimes finds himself expecting to form itself into shapes, faces, maybe a Horror he can fight, and he stares at it and all he can think about is Mitsuki Kaoru. That’s probably bad. It’s probably a good thing she’s in Italy, so he can just lie here thinking about her instead of getting disemboweled by the Golden Knight for going after his girl.

Ah, no, right, he’s not _just_ thinking about Kaoru, he’s also thinking about Saejima Kouga. Great.

It would be _nice_ if he could just be jealous, and he _is,_ of Kouga for having Kaoru’s love once he loosens his neck up enough to notice it, of Kaoru for having someone who’d fling themselves into the jaws of death for her. Of course, Rei made that same leap with just as much enthusiasm, but _he_ was doing it for people long dead. No one would do the same for him. But he can’t _just_ be jealous, because that would be easy. He has to ache for it, sunk in guilt for threatening Kaoru and for not finding the right target for his fury sooner and for betraying Shizuka’s memory with the thought of another woman’s smile.

He can’t really blame Kouga for going to impossible lengths to save Kaoru, when _he’s_ starting to have the worrying feeling that he’d trade a bottle of his own blood for an hour of her time and a year of his life for a night in her bed. Which could then end with Kouga looming up in the doorway and–

The obvious answer is, “throwing him out the window and jumping out after him with sword in hand,” but the first thing that comes to _mind_ is, “joining them,” and Rei says, out loud, “ _Fuck,_ I’m a mess.”

“You’re moping, is what you are,” Silva says briskly from his chest. “You think Shizuka would _want_ you to spend all your time pining?”

“I never felt this way about Shizuka, though, that seems bad.”

“Of course you didn’t feel the same way about Shizuka, you idiot, you were eighteen, if you felt things the same way now that you did then I’d be even more worried about you.”

He stares up at the crack in the ceiling and says, “I have cake in the refrigerator, don’t I.”

“Oh, go ahead, change the subject.”


	3. Tête-à-tête (Orb)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juggler invites Gai to get coffee with him, and is surprised when he actually shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from askrikkaiandhyotei: T, for tryst, with Gai and Juggler
> 
> Contains: a coffee shop that might seem suspiciously familiar to fans of Kamen Rider, a fancy hotel room

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Why wouldn’t I come? You haven’t asked me to meet you somewhere like this in centuries. Normally you just show up.”

“Well, maybe I’m trying to do things differently. Just…sit down, I’ll get us coffee.”

The cafe Juggler invited him to looks as much like a bookshop as Black Star once looked like a bar, all in mellow creams and browns, the walls lined with full bookshelves. There’s also an antique telescope on display in the middle of the room, and constellations painted on the ceiling; Gai is almost shocked to realize that he and Juggler are the only extraterrestrials there. It seems like the sort of place that should welcome aliens.

Juggler goes to order for both of them, flirting genially with the dreamy-eyed woman behind the counter as she makes their coffee. The other patrons glare at him, and Gai realizes abruptly why this would be a good place for a serious conversation: nobody will be looking at them. Every single Earthling here is absorbed in rapt contemplation of the woman making coffee. A kaiju could probably walk down the street outside and not manage to tear their attention away from her. Hopefully she’s fine with this.

Or perhaps, Gai thinks, looking at her blithe smile as she returns Juggler’s flirtation and the other cafe patrons clutch their chests in agony, she just doesn’t notice.

“I like it here,” Juggler says when he comes back to the table. “You and I could have a fifteen-minute sword fight and no one would even glance at us.”

Gai frowns. “I hope that’s not what you were planning, I was looking forward to–oh, this is very good.”

“Isn’t it?”

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to have coffee with you.”

Blinking, Gai opens his mouth to make the kind of joke Juggler might have laughed at when they were friends, to tease him a little about calling someone all this way just to sit in a cafe together. Then, though, he catches a wounded flash in Juggler’s eyes, quickly hidden in a sip of coffee, and instead what he says is, “That’s good. I’m happy to be having coffee with you.”

Juggler relaxes and says, “So where did I drag you from?” and from there the conversation is easier.

* * *

They linger over their coffee for an hour and a half, which seems to be more than usual at this cafe, and they talk. “Catching up,” such as it is, is difficult when there’s so _much_ catching up to do–better, easier to talk politely about their recent lives than to acknowledge the gulf of centuries separating their last friendly conversation. At least there _is_ some recent news, even if it’s just updates on the lives of other friends.

When they finally finish their second cups, Juggler stands up, a bit too abruptly. “Come on.”

Gai follows him and doesn’t ask where they’re going. Trying to get an explanation out of Juggler when he doesn’t feel like explaining himself is next to impossible, anyway, so why bother?

At least, until they get there, and the joke that Gai bit down on earlier comes bubbling back up into, “Juggler, you don’t _sleep,_ what are you doing with a fancy hotel room?”

Juggler turns around, and–it clicks.

“Did…did you really get a fancy hotel room just to seduce me in?”

“Just because _you_ don’t have any sense of style–”

“No, I’m not _complaining,_ I’m just surprised.”

“There are other reasons to get a hotel room. I do need to have my suit dry-cleaned occasionally, I’m not just going to wander the streets in my underthings when I could sit somewhere comfortable and read.”

“That does make sense.”

“Of course it does.” A beat, and Juggler smiles crookedly. “But also yes, I went to the trouble of specifically getting a _good_ hotel room so I could seduce you in it.”

“I _knew_ it.”

“So are you going to _let_ me or–”

Gai kisses him, moves forward without breaking it to walk him backwards until his legs hit the bed, slides his jacket off and drops it onto a chair despite his muffled protest. It’s only once he’s flat on his back on the bed with his arms around Gai’s neck that Gai lets up and says, “You’re in one of those moods, if I’d let you get started you’d be talking for the next half hour.”

Regaining the crooked smile is clearly an effort for Juggler, who looks slightly dizzy. Despite that, he does manage to say, “You love listening to me talk.”

“You know, I actually do?” Gai grins down at him. “But you went to the trouble of getting this nice hotel room just to seduce me, I feel like maybe it’d be rude not to let you.”

Juggler rolls his eyes. “Oh, and lights and darkness forbid you should be _rude._ ”


	4. A Gift (Garo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo cleans his brushes and thinks of an opportunity he might have lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompt: my choice of prompt and character as long as it was Garo--V, for vibrant, with Leo
> 
> Contains: proper calligraphy brush maintenance, a kiss that didn't happen

First, the tuft.

Makai Priests do not use ink on their brushes, but they must be cleaned regularly. Without regular and careful maintenance the flow of ki may become blocked. Just as a Makai Knight’s sword will never lose its edge, but nonetheless must be oiled and polished, a Madou Brush requires care.

Cold water runs down Leo’s hands, down the head of the brush, and he squeezes it gently to work out every whisper of ki trapped within and thinks, _Perhaps I should have kissed her._

His senses are no longer enhanced; he must work by mere touch and faulty human eyesight and his painstakingly developed sensitivity to the flow of energy. He feels the last of the build-up fly free, and reaches for a soft cloth with which to pat away excess moisture. The brush will need to be hung upside-down to dry fully, its so-soft bristles pointed to the floor so that they retain their correct shape and so that any tiny remaining fragments may drip away, but it cannot be hung until it is no longer soaking. That might introduce mildew, which would render it entirely unusable.

Next, the shaft.

He checks, first, the cuff which holds the bristles in place, cleans it with another cloth, feels for damage to the engravings, looks for interruptions in the design. Nothing out of place, which he knew. Every design is whole, the wood is not splintering where it meets cuff or cap. He has cared meticulously for this brush for years.

 _No,_ he thinks as he polishes the lacquered handle to a high shine, _kissing her would have been inappropriate. Especially as she stood with the face of her beloved in her mind._

Nevertheless. He would have liked to kiss her.

Last, the cap, and the string of beads trailing from it.

The cap is in perfect condition, and begins to gleam with barely a touch of the cloth. The beads must be handled more delicately, and do not take such a high shine. They may need to be restrung, judging by the state of their cord; he’ll do that soon, although not before the bristles are dry.

Delicately he runs his fingers over each bead, checking to make sure that none are in danger of cracking, and he thinks of the air filled with flashes of color on their path to the Spirit Beast. It had been beautiful. He thinks of the parade of spirit creatures for which they’d stopped, and smiles at the memory of the fox child who had shadowed their movements. Had she seen it as well? Will that sly creature make it into her sketchbook, and from there into the picture book to which she’s devoting so much of her energy?

Her hand had been warm in his when they’d walked like that, and he’d quietly hoped that though he was only one man, his fervent affection would be enough to see them both through that stretch of the path. And her paintbrush had looked loved when she took it from her bag and held it up to be blessed, a tool of her own magic for all that it was machine-made and without potency.

He hangs the brush up to dry, smoothing the bristles so that they’ll point correctly. Perhaps she is doing something similar, elsewhere in the house, perhaps she’s washing the residue of watercolors from her newly-blessed paintbrush as a painting dries on her easel. It’s not a painting for him, he knows, just as he knows who she’ll give it to, and how much that man deserves it.

Madou Brushes are invested with tremendous potency, but they do not touch ink or paint. They cannot bring color and light to the world. In that way, maybe hers is a stronger magic.

 _I wish I had kissed her,_ he thinks as he sits back down, but then he remembers the look of wonder on her face at the Spirit Beast’s approach, and he smiles anyway. _But this was a worthwhile gift to give._


	5. Finally (Garo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kouga's gotten a little bit too tangled up in his own head about Kaoru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from askrikkaiandhyotei: B, for basorexia, with Kouga and Kaoru
> 
> Contains: more thought being put into kissing than is really required, a very small peanut gallery

In theory Kouga knows that he can kiss her whenever he wants.

She’s right there, after all. At this point, with the house still being restored, she practically lives with him again–she’s there every day, helping Gonza rehang paintings, cooing delightedly over the few pictures of him as a child, offering unexpected but not always unwelcome decorating suggestions. Gonza assumes that she’ll be there for lunch and dinner unless she tells him otherwise. Rooms smell like her shampoo, or the flowery perfume she occasionally wears.

And he’s kissed her before. There’s that. The memory of it sometimes surprises him, both in that it comes to him at unexpected moments and that he is shocked by how sweet it is to think of.

But.

Saejima Kouga is not a man accustomed to uncertainty, but–what if she’s not actually interested? He’s not exactly adept at reading people. What if she _does_ prefer Rei? He’s handsome and charming, he smiles, he laughs, he’s transparently in love with her. Or Leo–he’s also handsome, an intelligent man, and his ardent devotion is clearly something that he thinks he’s concealed very well.

(He hasn’t. They all know. Rei’s actually commented on it to Kouga, during sparring matches; he thinks it’s adorable.)

So–Kouga doesn’t kiss her. He wants to, constantly, finds it interfering with his concentration during training and distracting him during meals, but he holds back. He lives in the hope of a clear sign that she _wants_ him to.

One day, though, he walks into his study, which is nearly back to its old self. The scene is familiar: Leo in a chair in the corner writing something, Rei leaning over his shoulder offering cheery, unhelpful commentary. Gonza re-decorating. Kaoru helping Gonza.

Specifically, she’s standing on a chair, re-hanging a painting–her own, which is enough in and of itself to make him happy. She looks up when he enters, smiles, waves, says, “Does this look straight?”

“It does.”

“Help me down?”

She holds out her hand. She’s wearing her flowery perfume again, although she’s not otherwise dressed up, and her hair is mostly falling out of its ponytail. There’s also a smudge of paint on the side of her neck, just below her right ear, and he finds himself thinking absently that she has nice ears, which is not a thought he’s ever had about anyone before. Also unusually, because she’s standing on the chair, her face is for once nearly on a level with his–slightly higher, in fact. The reasonable thing to do would be to take her hand and help her step down, as she’s asking him to do.

He doesn’t do that. He picks her up by the waist and lifts her off the chair. She makes a startled noise and grabs his shoulders. Behind him, Rei’s murmured commentary stops.

She beams at him, feet still dangling several inches above the ground and an attractive blush spreading across her nose. “Hi there.”

He blinks, slowly. “Hello, Kaoru.”

A pause, and then she peers at him, head tilting thoughtfully, and says, “So are you going to kiss me or not? Because if you’re not going to kiss me then you should probably put me down.”

It’s a nice kiss. He almost certainly didn’t need to worry so much.

“See,” Rei says behind them, “I keep telling you, I’m convinced he’s secretly a big drama queen and he just doesn’t to let on.”

“You know, I wasn’t sure about it before,” Leo says, more quietly, “but I’m starting to believe you.”

Gonza just coughs, says something about preparing lunch, and leaves the room.

After another moment, Kouga hasn’t put Kaoru down yet, so Rei and Leo leave too.


	6. Shower (Orb)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi enjoys having Gai at her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from askrikkaiandhyotei: H, for halcyon, with Gai and Naomi
> 
> Contains: something short and sweet

The best thing about the new arrangement, such as it is, is that now when Gai’s in town he sleeps at Naomi’s apartment instead of at the SSP offices. And the best thing about him sleeping at Naomi’s apartment, ignoring any insinuations that Jetta might make, is listening to him whistle in the shower.

It’s always the same tune, of course. Naomi’s not entirely sure if he _knows_ any other songs. (He _must._ Right? He’s lived for such a long time, he has to know other songs, but he only ever whistles that one.) He’s not an especially good whistler, either. Somehow that’s endearing.

Domesticity. That’s what she likes about it. Sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table or in bed and listening to Gai whistle in the shower somehow makes her feel like they actually live together, instead of just having an intermittently long-distance something that neither of them quite call a relationship.

Of course, she thinks as she hears the water turn off, seeing him come _out_ of the shower is also pretty good.


End file.
